Reaching for carrot shoots and loose potatoes on farm stands, pointing at hopping finches, watching where the folk music is coming from and bobbing his head to the bass players beat while sharing a fresh lunch crepe with me in a courtyard farm market walking distance from one of America’s most beautiful college campuses. I love being the mom of an almost-toddler.
Once the little guy, in his knitted bomber hat and dinosaur sweater, fell asleep, I strolled to a local cafe for some mommy time. I read the Bible with a warm coffee between my cold hands and journaled: I recall 385 days ago looking from these same old buildings and autumn trees to my newborn and feeling joy bursting inside me. This season marks one year of motherhood and my feelings have not changed.
